Make Believe
by Carolina Nadeau
Summary: A warm July evening puts both Harold and Marian in mind of how much everything has changed since the year before – but the librarian is certainly not expecting the unconventional way in which her mischievous husband chooses to express his nostalgia...


Young Milly Appleton had gone on her way following her Thursday evening lesson, and Marian lingered by the piano after she had seen her student out safely.

The music room window was open slightly, and the sound of crickets and the sweet smell of grass and fresh air drifted in from the outdoors. Every so often, a warm evening breeze would gently rustle her sheet music or stir a few escaped curls against her neck.

The wind rustled the pages of the calendar hanging on the wall, too, and Marian found herself smiling as she glanced up at it, wondering what small but significant first anniversary might fall on this particular date.

It was July, and so many things were much as they had been the last time the calendar had shown that date. The day had been long, hot, and hazy, the sun rising early and setting late as it had done at this time of year for eons, at least in this particular hemisphere of the globe. She had gone to work in the library today, and given a piano lesson to a young girl in the evening, just as she'd done so many days for the past several years – but she wondered what last year's Marian would have said if she could see her teaching out of this lovely music room in her own home, a home that she shared with the man who had walked into her life as no more than a handsome and infuriating stranger but who had become her dearest, greatest joy.

Well – there was one other joy that could compare, one that she could still scarcely believe was real because they'd learned of it so very recently. The librarian's hand pressed lovingly to her stomach at the mere thought, feeling for some outward sign of the tiny child's presence though she knew it was too early to find any. That lack of palpable physical evidence was part of what made the whole thing so hard to believe, but regardless, their son or daughter _was_ there, the only person she'd ever loved so much without knowing a single thing about them. Her long held-dream of becoming a mother – and much more recent dream of becoming a mother to Harold's child – was finally coming true. As for the rest of her dreams, she was living them already.

Her days were bright and dynamic now. People smiled at her when she passed, were willing to stop and talk and ask her advice perhaps to the point of excess. Winthrop had returned to being the most energetic and talkative boy of his age, and Marian could always count on good news from her mother, who could not have been more proud to see her children doing so well for themselves. There always seemed to be _something_ happening in River City nowadays – the great success of the band had inspired all sorts of local organizations to spring up or to expand their existing ambitions, filling the social calendar of the River City-ziens to the brim with new events. And even on the most dull and ordinary of work days, the librarian always had the comfort of knowing she would return to her loving husband come evening.

Everything in Marian's life was an absolute blessing, and it was strange to think of how unimaginable this had all been last year at this time.

She suddenly wanted more than anything else to seek out her husband, cover him in breathless kisses and express the joy that was in her heart – he'd arrived home while Milly's lesson was already underway, and she hadn't even had a chance to so much as greet him – but she also knew that she could do that at any time tonight, whereas if she abandoned her current task of picking a piece to introduce to Milly next week, she might very well forget all about what she'd been doing, especially after other matters, such as dinner, had drawn her focus away. It would be wiser to simply finish now so she wouldn't have to worry about it later.

As it turned out, her first instincts seemed to have led her right after all, and it only took her a couple more minutes to make the decision. Just as she had tucked the music away in a safe place and stirred to rise from the bench, she was surprised to hear footsteps right outside the music room, and Marian had to smile at how easy her husband had inadvertently made her search for him.

"You can come in," she called, turning around – but she was immediately flummoxed by the unexpected sight Harold presented. He was wearing his hat inside the house, and that alone was enough to confuse her – especially considering that he definitely hadn't just come in from outside, as she'd heard him arrive home about a half hour ago.

But before she could ask him why he was wearing it or even utter a single syllable of surprise, her husband did something that was stranger still.

"Top o' the evening to you, Miss Paroo!" he declared with a tip of his hat, and Marian wasn't certain if she should burst into laughter or ask him if he'd lost his mind.

"Miss _Paroo_?" the librarian exclaimed, raising her eyebrows at him in mingled amusement and confusion. It was almost as if he'd been listening in on her thoughts about last year – or, more likely, he'd been having very similar thoughts himself. But he'd certainly chosen a very unorthodox way of expressing them!

"Ah, I'm sorry, would you prefer Miss Marian?" Harold amended with utmost sincerity, not breaking his act for a moment. "It's come to my attention that you're the piano teacher in this town, and its foremost musical citizen. May I have a word?"

So, this was a game he was playing with her – and she supposed that she could either put a stop to it immediately by telling him he was being ridiculous and changing the subject, _or_ she could play along, though she wasn't sure where he was going with this. But in seven months of marriage, she _had_ learned that all of Harold's ideas regarding her tended to lead to something delightful. Whatever this was, she decided that she would let him see it through, at least for a few minutes.

Turning to face him while remaining seated on the piano bench, Marian sat up straight and tall and folded her hands primly in front of her. "If you must, Mr. Hill," she replied in her most imperious tone, though she certainly wasn't a good enough actress to hold back a slight smirk.

Evidently gleeful that she'd been up for taking his bait, Harold shook his head, wagging a teasing finger in her direction.

"Ah, ah, ah – that's _Professor_ Hill, Miss Marian," he scolded, grinning in a way that would have infuriated her last year but that now sent pleasant little tremors through her entire being.

Still, Marian pursed her lips at him, already getting into the spirit of bantering back and forth with him. "Perhaps I'd call you that if I had any reason to believe that you deserved that title. Now, would you please tell me why you insist on bothering me at this hour when I have work to attend to?" she asked, gesturing to the sheet music spread in front of her.

Harold took a few steps closer, leaning one arm on the side of the piano. "Oh, well, I hoped that tonight, we could further discuss what we talked about yesterday."

For a moment, the librarian stared blankly at Harold, annoyed that he'd left it to _her_ to continue embellishing the details of this scenario – it was entirely his idea, after all! – but she soon realized what the most logical answer would be.

"Ah, you mean the Think System?"

"Yes, indeed," he responded, doffing his hat and hanging it on the corner of the piano as if that were a perfectly ordinary thing to do. "Have you taken the time to think it over?"

Now eager to tease him a little, Marian found it quite easy to slip into the haughty ice-queen persona, though she knew that the affection glowing in her eyes betrayed her. "I have – and I still maintain that it's utterly preposterous, and that you, _Mister_ Hill, are nothing but a fraud and a charlatan."

He furrowed his brow in a display of exaggerated dismay, pressing a hand to his heart. "What could I do to change your mind?"

"You could show me that it works." She gestured at the piano. "Why don't you _think_ something and then play it for me – right now!"

But Harold seemed dissatisfied with that answer. The librarian had suspected all long that her husband might have had certain very specific intentions behind initiating such a charade, and quite suddenly, he confirmed every one of those suspicions when he leaned in close, eyes twinkling and voice low and smooth with seductive intent. "I could prove it to you in other ways, you know."

"Like what?" Marian inquired coyly.

"I could demonstrate on you instead."

After quickly biting her lip to hold back from laughing, she managed to narrow her eyes and look duly disapproving of that statement. "Forgive me if I'm not entirely comfortable with your motivations, Professor. I _know_ how men like you behave in regards to women."

A wicked grin spread across his handsome face. "Oh, I don't think you do, my dear, or you wouldn't be so quick to refuse. But if I give you an idea - if I make you think about it, see - I'm fairly certain I can dispel those apprehensions. As a matter of fact, I'll have you _begging_ me to make love to you."

Harold delivered the line with utterly convincing seriousness, which possibly only served to further magnify how it was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard him say. It was becoming ever more difficult for her not to burst into laughter, especially now that he'd instantly and completely stripped all pretense of plausibility from this scenario. Not only was it a ludicrously audacious thing to say – Harold Hill may have been a brazen womanizer before his reformation, but he'd still possessed the basic decency and respect for a lady's assent to preclude him from coming out and saying a thing like _that_! – but the very idea that Marian would have even considered granting him the slightest of the liberties he had just requested was even more preposterous than the request itself. But this was a fantasy, a dream they were acting out, and there was no sense in striving for realism in such a scenario.

It was strange new territory, the thought of letting him seduce her while they pretended that this was something other than it was, but though she'd never once thought of doing such a thing before, she could readily admit that the idea was exciting. And even as she tried valiantly not to dissolve into mirth over the silliness of this situation, that feeling of excitement won out. It always did, wherever Harold was concerned. When he looked at her, eyes dark with shameless longing, voice low and smooth and somehow just a little rough, too, she was completely lost in the most delicious way. It didn't matter how silly they were acting – she was comfortable being silly with _him_ , after all, and it most certainly did not inhibit how fiercely she wanted him.

No matter how eager she was to go along with this turn of events, however, she was at a loss for how to respond in a way properly befitting this outlandish twist. "I don't believe _that's_ strictly in line with the definition of the Think System as you've explained it, Professor. And it's certainly not appropriate considering the nature of our relationship – of the, um, our recent – acquaintance – " Marian floundered for words for a few more seconds before bursting out with an "oh, darn it!" As she realized her slipup, she laughed, shaking her head. "And I was doing so well, too!"

"Careful, my dear. You're breaking character, and we haven't even gotten to the fun part yet."

She opened her mouth to respond, but quickly closed it again, realizing that anything she could say in response would only prolong her lapse. Instead, she stood up and made a pretense of brushing carelessly past him, looking back over her shoulder at him with mock disdain as she left the room.

"You're shameless, Mister Hill," she called back as she strolled away.

Bounding to catch up with her, her husband managed to corner her with great ease just as she'd turned into the hallway, and she allowed him to do so without any further protest. His hands gently but insistently pinned her arms against the wall behind her, his fingers stroking the soft skin of her forearms. Marian's breath caught and a pleasant tremor shook her body, one that only intensified as she gazed into his ardent eyes. In the context of the fantasy they were enacting, the librarian understood that they had never been so close before, had yet to share so much as a kiss, and the memory of how _desperately_ she had once craved that first contact filled her mind and made her heart and her body ache with need.

Standing so close that the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne, and the sight of him before her were all that she could perceive, Harold looked at her with the same burning expression of longing and passion that he had that first time he'd ever asked her to the footbridge. "Do you know the kind of things I think about you, Miss Marian? All of the things I think about every single day, and have ever since I first laid eyes on you?"

His words sounded so natural and honest, not a lighthearted joke meant to make her laugh and roll her eyes but a true expression of desperate desire, that for a moment, Marian almost forgot that they were husband and wife and that this was a silly lovers' game. A fraction of a moment passed in which she was able to fully absorb just what that ring of truth signified, and the epiphany made the librarian's heart lurch and another delightful shiver run up and down her spine – what Harold was saying, what he was going to say, was _real_. He was going to use this opportunity to tell her the exact thoughts that had been running feverishly through his mind all those months ago when he'd chased her and danced with her in the library, sat by her side in the Candy Kitchen, come to call on her in her front yard where the air was heavy with unspoken questions – when Marian had been far too innocent to think of anything more than a handclasp and a kiss, but certainly not so naive not to be aware that her suitor was seeking much, much more.

As a maid, she had been first offended and later some heady combination of excited and terrified to know that Harold was having such thoughts. As a happily married woman for quite some time now, though, she was unashamedly eager to hear every thought and fantasy concerning her that he'd ever hidden underneath the veneer of gentlemanliness. He'd already revealed so much to her, starting on their wedding night, but they had come so very far since then, and her pulse raced as she anticipated what he might confess.

Although sheer desire was making it more and more difficult to keep up her act, Marian made a playful display of defiance, raising her chin, lips pursed. "I sense that these are improper thoughts to share with a lady?"

Harold grinned broadly. "Wildly improper, yes. Yet I can't help but notice that you still seem very interested."

"I am," she breathed, her voice trembling in anticipation. Marian supposed that she should have thought of something wittier to say, but she was simply too impatient for him to continue his seduction to put up any show of moral affront. "So what _are_ these thoughts, Professor Hill?"

"Oh, I think about a lot of things." He began by delicately trailing his fingers through the soft edge of her hair at the base of her neck. "Like your hair – how all that beautiful golden hair would look, all loose and flowing over your naked shoulders." Harold let his fingers dance along the edge of her braided chignon. "Though I like it like this too, if only because it'll give me the pleasure of unwinding it."

He very strategically slipped a single pin from her hair so that just a few curls fell down to frame her face, adding an air of impropriety to her otherwise still-impeccable coiffure. If he weren't her husband, if he hadn't already unwound her hair countless times, there was absolutely no way Harold would have known how to pull off that precise maneuver, but Marian was entirely willing to suspend disbelief for this purpose.

"Perhaps I should be more alarmed by the fact that you've been thinking about my _naked_ _shoulders_ ," she exclaimed with exaggerated shock, trying not to smile.

"But how could I not? You have the most perfectly delectable skin I've ever seen," he mused, tracing the dimple on her cheek before bestowing a gentle kiss upon it. "Of course, a lady keeps most of it covered up, but that just makes me more keen to imagine it. It's just the same as with your hair. The thing about a high collar like that on a beautiful woman is that it only serves to provoke a man's curiosity, make him think about what's beneath it."

To illustrate his point, the music professor tugged the collar in question down a little and stroked the revealed skin with his thumb, and Marian could scarcely believe how thrillingly _forbidden_ he could make that touch feel in this moment. Despite their seven months of marriage, it was not at all difficult for the librarian to place herself back in that time when every inch of her body had yearned fiercely for something from him that she could not have and did not yet fully understand; when the slightest, daring little intrusion of his fingers beneath a collar or a sleeve was the absolute height of sensual intimacy.

And reliving that forbidden excitement was only improved by the knowledge that this time, there would be no stopping short and stifling passions – and that there would be no fear, guilt or uncertainty for either of them from any of this, no matter how precarious they pretended the circumstances to be. Marian could feel heat rising to her skin as he unbuttoned her collar with painstaking care and stroked her neck. And then, finally, he lowered his mouth to the path his fingers had traced, fluttering his lips and tongue against the sensitive spots on her neck with a maddeningly light touch that grew gradually harder until Marian's heightened breathing and gasps transformed into a throaty cry of pleasure and desire.

Immediately Harold pulled back to look at her, his countenance convincingly astonished and triumphant as if he'd truly managed to coax a moan from her for the very first time. "Oh, you do sound beautiful moaning, Madam Librarian – just like I knew you would."

Perhaps it was just a line that had come to mind in the midst of this charade, but, adhering to her suspicion that all of this was based in truth, Marian was intent on getting more information out of her husband. "And you _knew_ that how?"

The music professor smiled and stepped closer to her once again, more than happy to oblige her request that he elaborate. "You have such a sweet, lovely voice, no matter what you're saying. Why wouldn't you sound beautiful moaning?" As he spoke, his fingers danced absentmindedly up and down her arms, eliciting a pleasant shiver from her. "I knew it from the first time I ever spoke to you."

She could remember every detail of that first disagreeable encounter, and while Harold had long ago confessed that he'd wanted her from the moment he laid eyes on her, the reminder that his fantasies were so _concrete_ – that from the beginning, he'd burned with fierce lust for every part of her down to her very _voice_ – was enough to make her blush instantaneously scarlet. Momentarily losing track of the voice her husband loved so much, she swallowed hard and stared up at him in amazement.

Cupping her flushed face in his hand, Harold stroked her cheek gently with his thumb, affection lighting up his features as he did so. "Do you know what else? I often think about when you blush like that, how you – " There was a hint of a catch in his voice, as if he'd suddenly been overwhelmed by how much this was arousing him, and the librarian couldn't help but smile. " – how you must blush _everywhere_."

She knew she was only blushing more now that he'd said that, but Marian was determined that she should not allow Harold to have _all_ the fun of pretending, even if he was undoubtedly better at it. Looking up at him with over-wide, astonished eyes, she gasped theatrically. "What do you mean by _everywhere_?"

Despite herself, she almost laughed at the way she sounded – perhaps she'd overdone it a little on the innocence, after all, she was a _terrible_ liar – but her smile quickly fled as her husband's lips descended over hers and his hands went to work at unbuttoning the rest of her blouse. They had already spent so much time teasing each other that Marian melted into the kiss with desperate fervor, but she'd hardly had time to luxuriate in the heat of his mouth upon hers before Harold's lips were already trailing downward, marking a path of open-mouthed kisses upon each inch of bare skin he revealed. Pulling back to take in the sight of her as he tugged her blouse open, he traced the swell of her breasts with exquisite carefulness.

"Looks like I was right – you do blush everywhere, don't you?" he teased as he drank in the sight of her with his eyes.

Marian decided to surprise him by taking a bit of the initiative back for herself. "I don't know if you can strictly say that you've seen me everywhere already." As he gaped at her in delighted astonishment, she grasped his hands and brought them to the laces on the front of her corset, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

After seven months of marriage, Harold knew exactly how to free his wife of her corset in the most efficient way possible, and tonight he managed to get her corset _and_ camisole out of his way without even fully removing her blouse, contributing to the illusion of a rushed, torrid tryst.

He ran his hands worshipfully over her breasts before leaning down to lavish kisses upon them, murmuring words of adoration, letting her know how often he'd dreamed about this, how the reality of her exceeded anything he'd ever imagined, and Marian shivered helplessly not only at the words themselves, but at the truth in them. Harold was doing an _astonishing_ job of pretending that he was actually undressing her for the first time, that he was amazed and awed by the mere sight of her – or maybe, she realized, it was that he _always_ looked at her that way, and she had simply never been so aware of it until now.

All of these thoughts flew through her mind in mere moments and were swept entirely away with each motion of his tongue against the sensitive skin of her breasts. She was still panting and giggling with delight when he abruptly stopped to look up at her, seemingly on the verge of bursting out with some charmingly impertinent remark.

"What – what is it?" she exclaimed.

"Just that not only do you blush everywhere, but you're incredibly kissable everywhere as well. I should have known."

She arched her eyebrows. "How so?"

Rising up to his full height again, Harold placed a finger under her chin to tilt her face toward his. "Well, you have the most inviting-looking lips I've ever seen. Lips like those were made to be kissed, and I'm sure you'll agree that nothing in this world could have been made in vain – "

He pulled her down with him into a quick, playful dip, and Marian giggled when he stopped kissing her long enough to allow it. "Yes, it seems like you've already made your thoughts on them quite clear."

"And it only makes sense that a woman with such kissable lips would have to be kissable everywhere. I know, I know, I haven't kissed you everywhere _yet_ , but I fully intend to get there." Harold paused for a moment, his grin growing even wider and more wicked. "If I'm to be perfectly frank, though – and you seem to have already proven that you're amenable to that – I should mention that I can't help but think of your lips for a lot more than _kissing_ , too. That's a theory we'll have to test as well."

Marian was caught halfway between feigning utter innocence as to what he was talking about – because surely, this version of herself that she was pretending to be could not know what he truly meant by either of those insinuations – and teasing him by pointing out the bizarre thought that his phrasing had brought to mind. On a split second decision, she chose the latter.

"Not – both at the same time?" she blurted with a nervous laugh, abruptly unsure if the quip she was making was even the least bit coherent.

To her surprise, Harold was unfazed, and he chuckled low against her ear. "That could be arranged." He said this with such smooth earnestness that Marian could tell that he wasn't joking.

" _Oh_ ," she breathed, not sure if she was exclaiming more from surprise or desire. She felt foolish at her own innocence, somehow just as inexperienced as the part she was playing. Yet it also thrilled her to be reminded of the sheer volume of what she had yet to imagine of what extraordinary delights Harold could introduce her to in the bedroom, and she shivered with a sort of electric tingle that ran all the way to her palms and made her clench them involuntarily.

"I mean – not now, exactly," the music professor was quick to clarify. "We'd need a more comfortable place for that." He leaned in close, giving her a conspiratorial wink. "But I'll keep your request in mind."

It hadn't been a request, of course, and that thought made Marian blush even more deeply – she wouldn't have dreamed of _requesting_ such a thing even if she'd known it were possible!

But she didn't possess the presence of mind to speak beyond a small murmur of affirmation, and she didn't want to. As he revealed more and more of her bare skin and kissed and stroked every inch of her, all of her thoughts melted away to sensation. After fully unbuttoning her blouse and pulling it free of her skirt, his fingers skimmed lower, across her belly – and his tender caress was an obvious acknowledgement of their precious child within, which was rather amusing to consider as they pretended that they were near-strangers caught up in a moment of illicit passion.

Perhaps, then, his make believe act wasn't so convincing after all. They were pretending this was a tryst borne entirely of uncontrolled lust, yet his love for her could be felt in every touch and every word, and in the obvious joy that he took in bringing her pleasure. Of course, Marian was well aware that she knew nothing about what lovemaking would be like in the absence of love, but she felt confident that Harold Hill the unrepentant con man would not have held her half as sweetly and reverently as he did right now.

Just as she might have been tempted to slip out of character once again to express the intense emotions she was feeling, Harold cleverly adapted his sentimental caress into a mischievous one as he slipped his hands around to cup her backside and pull her tightly against him, sinking his fingers into the curve of her bottom and pressing her right against his erection at the same time.

"Mmm, you're wonderfully soft, Madam Librarian," he drawled, his voice low and velvety in her ear. "Just as soft as I dreamed you'd be. You try to convince everybody that you're all ice and hard edges, but now – I know how soft and warm you really are."

"Only on the outside," Marian responded archly. She'd thought she'd made a good retort, but as soon as the words had escaped her mouth, she realized how easily they could be taken as blatantly obscene innuendo, and her cheeks flamed red as she clapped a hand over her mouth with a slight squeak.

Harold, of course, was completely thrilled by the opportunity she'd given him. "I'm absolutely positive that you'll prove to be just as warm on the inside, my dear – if not more so."

Struck dumb with disbelief and feeling that strange, giddy mix of mortification and amusement that always rushed through her when her husband made such a ribald remark, Marian let her hand drop limply from her mouth. In truth, she was actually rather relieved that he'd chosen to make a response that wasn't _quite_ as vulgar as it could have been. But the insistent press of his hips against hers made it quite clear which meaning she was supposed to infer – as well as dispelling any objection she might have made. Any thought of scolding him vanished entirely as he ran a finger along her thigh, his hand guiding her leg ever so gently as she yielded to the instinctive urge to bring it up around his waist.

"Your legs wrapped around me – that's something I've thought about quite a lot," he murmured huskily. "But I think about _this_ most of all." As he spoke, he slipped his hand beneath the fabric of her skirts and drawers, fingers trailing up the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Marian was helpless, flushed, panting, and so aroused that she could hardly stay still, and when his hand finally, finally made its way under her skirts, slipping a finger through the opening in her drawers to trace along the length of her silken-wet folds, all she could do was let out a little gasping sob as she writhed against him, desperate for closer contact.

"Harold, _yes_."

As she'd all but forgotten their little game as her need for his touch overwhelmed her, her husband responded to her plea in just about the last way she'd expected – he pulled his hand away, removed his lips from the crook of her neck and pulled back to look at her, mischief and feigned surprise written across his handsome face.

"How do you know my name, little lady?" Harold exclaimed. "I don't believe I ever mentioned it."

After a moment of utter confusion had passed and Marian could figure out what on earth he was talking about, it struck her as truly absurd that they were supposedly doing all of this when she didn't even know his _name_ – but there was something exciting about that, too, something thrilling about the terrible wickedness of it all.

Laughing breathlessly, she gave an exasperated shrug, impatient for him to continue. "It – it was on your suitcase."

"I didn't realize I was supposed to have my suitcase – "

Slipping her hand down his back, she gave him a firm, playful pinch on his bottom in admonition. " _That's_ for breaking character," she teased. "Yes, you do."

"All right, then." He nearly leaned in to resume kissing her, but pulled back at the last moment, his expression smoldering. "I still want you to call me Professor, though. I like it."

The words themselves were so simple, but there was a darkness in his voice and his eyes that made Marian tremble. Few things were so exciting as getting a window into her husband's most intimate fantasies – now, she wondered for how long he'd fantasized about her moaning his not-quite-earned title instead of his name in moments of pleasure.

Emboldened by the reminder of the depths of his desire for her, the librarian dared to push just a little further, to see if he would reveal something more. "Anything else you _like_ – Professor?"

"Your glasses," Harold responded, and the swiftness of his answer almost startled her. His fingers almost trembled as he brought them up to trace along the tops of her silver frames. "I want you to leave them on. And leave your hair up, too – although of course that isn't anything new – "

She laughed, her voice low with desire. "What on earth are you talking about, Professor? We've never done any of this before. As a matter of fact, _I've_ never done anything like this with _anyone_ , so what do you mean?"

He looked duly impressed, and Marian couldn't help but gloat a little at having caught him once again. "I hope you're not confusing me with somebody else," she admonished. "I wouldn't want to think that you go around doing this sort of thing with just _any_ woman."

"Oh, no, I could never confuse you for just any woman, Madam Librarian. I don't think another woman exists as beautiful, radiant and alluring as you."

The words certainly did fit the role he was playing as a smooth line from a silver-tongued con man, but his expression showed that he was speaking from a place of absolute sincerity, and the librarian felt herself blush and smile in response. It was getting more difficult to find the required cynicism to maintain her own façade, and she stammered for a few seconds. It had been fun for a while, but Marian no longer wanted to verbally spar with Harold – he had gotten her so worked up that she only wanted him to touch and kiss and make love to her.

"Then show me – please," she finally managed to say.

"Ah, see? I told you that you would beg." His voice was hoarse and unsteady, as though arousal had just about gotten the better of him as well, but his eyes still gleamed with the satisfaction of having been right.

Even in the midst of her desperation, she managed to roll her eyes at him. "Haven't you tormented me enough, _Professor_?"

Evidently, Harold agreed, as his next move was to hitch her skirt up high, pull her drawers down, and kneel down to commence a series of fluttering, teasing kisses to her inner thighs that sent jolts of electric desire all throughout her body, her hands tangling in his hair to hold him as close to her as she possibly could.

There was nothing more for either one of them to say, and as she finally felt his the heat and wetness of his mouth upon that most exquisitely sensitive place, Marian let out a helpless cry of delight, leaning her weight against the wall to keep herself from falling over as her legs turned liquid beneath her. Finding the support she needed to stay upright while also arching into his every motion was a delicate balance, especially as each well-practiced motion of his tongue made her knees more and more weak with pleasure, but Harold was strong enough to keep his wife right where he wanted her, and, as she did in all things, she placed her trust entirely in him.

She felt utterly wanton, writhing against him disheveled and half-naked while he was still fully, impeccably clothed, moreso than he had ever been when making love to her before – she hadn't had the opportunity to so much as loosen his bowtie. It was simply one more novelty that contributed to the excitement of this moment... as was making sure that the ragged gasps escaping her lips bore somewhat of a resemblance to the word "Professor" instead of his name, as he'd asked. Even in this less-than-perfectly-comfortable situation, it wasn't long at all before Harold's ministrations became simply _too much_ , his deft fingers finding exactly the right places inside of her while his lips and tongue avidly teased and tasted her in the most skillful ways, and as a rush of ecstasy overwhelmed her at last, Marian cried out wordlessly again and again.

As she trembled and shuddered in bliss, Harold gathered her down into his arms and stroked her hair, bathing her face and her neck in kisses, and in the safety of his embrace, the librarian allowed herself to melt and relax now that she no longer had to brace herself against the wall. After the most intense waves of pleasure had passed, she became aware that he was murmuring _something_ between kisses, but it still took a moment to decipher his words until she recognized it as "I love you."

Pulling back from his embrace a little, she raised an eyebrow at him with a little smirk. "Breaking character again?"

All of his brass and bravado was gone now, his expression unguarded and brimming with the love and joy of a man who was happier than he'd ever imagined was possible. "I don't care. I couldn't pretend to be any man who doesn't love you."

Her husband's candid words warmed her heart, but Marian still regarded him with a sly smile, wondering if he heard the irony in that statement. "If I understand correctly, that was _exactly_ what you were doing last year at this time – "

He laughed ruefully, then silenced her with a long and tender kiss. "Believe me, I know. And I couldn't _stand_ it. I'd spent my entire adult life pretending to be somebody I wasn't, but _that_ was, and remains, the one role I couldn't play. Thank God for that, too." Brushing aside the errant curls that had fallen down to frame her face, he kissed the tip of each one before gently nuzzling her cheek, smiling against her skin. "It's impossible not to love you."

Marian didn't think he was being strictly accurate, as it seemed that just about everybody had found it quite possible for a long time, but to be reminded that for _him_ at least, that was an absolute reality – it was _impossible_ not to love her – filled her with a deep, warm contentment that she couldn't even put into words. Whispering her love for him in return, she simply buried her head in his chest and let him hold her.

When she'd at last recovered from her blissful delirium, Marian disentangled herself from Harold's arms and leveled an expectant gaze at him. His eyes were dark and blazing, and the sight sent a thrilling spark through her body all over again. While she'd forgotten it for a few moments at the height of her pleasure, Marian was once again fully aware that they were not done here – in fact, they'd barely just begun. And while she was eager and enthusiastic for whatever else he might have in mind, recalling the circumstances that had led to their current situation gave her pause. They had dropped their silly little game entirely in the past few minutes, but had Harold actually intended it to end already?

Running her hand gently along the side of his face – it was still wonderfully smooth, but at this time of day, she could see the barest hint of what would become stubble by the time the morning came, giving him a delightfully roguish look – she gave her husband a questioning smile.

"Now what?"

"Now _what_?" Harold repeated, confused, as she pulled him up to his feet with her.

"Well, certainly, we're not finished making love for the evening." She decided to illustrate her point in the most mischievous way by pressing closer and rocking her hips just so against his, her face lighting up in triumph when her movements elicited a strangled gasp and a shudder. "But are we still – pretending?"

He looked almost embarrassed at that, quickly running a hand through his already-mussed hair. "No, we don't have to," he replied with a laugh. "Though – I have to admit, it was far too much fun to finally get the chance to seduce haughty Miss Marian Paroo. And I did so enjoy you hearing you call me 'Professor' in the middle of everything…"

That was all Marian needed to be convinced of what she ought to do. Hooking her fingers through his belt loops and boldly tugging him flush against her, she gazed up at him through hooded eyes.

"Well, then, _Professor..._ I must say that I found your demonstration of the Think System very compelling indeed. But while it was certainly _enjoyable_ , I feel that I may require further... explanation. Is there anything else you can show me?"

A dazzling, gleeful grin spread across his face. "I'm so glad you asked," he proclaimed, quickly and effortlessly reassuming the role of the seductive scoundrel. "Madam Librarian, do you know what I intend to do now? I am going to make love to you in your glasses – and nothing else."

Without wasting a single moment, he swept her up into his arms to do just that, and Marian once again gave herself over in joyful surrender, absolutely elated to let Harold have his merry way with her. Yet at the same time, she remained delighted by the charming little weaknesses he had revealed to her tonight – specifically, his immense fondness for her glasses and his title. That sort of insight would come in handy not only tonight, but on other occasions when he wouldn't be expecting it in the least, and she'd already thought about how she might use it.

The librarian might have been perfectly happy to let Harold take the lead in their lovemaking most of the time, but that didn't mean that she didn't absolutely love exploring her bold side. Marian felt like she was an open book for Harold to discover, and she didn't mind being that way in the least, but – doubtless due to her lack of experience and still-burgeoning confidence, as well as the undeniable fact that Harold was a dominant personality in every sense – it was so much rarer for her to discover the things that could undo _him_. When she did discover such secrets, they were little tidbits of knowledge that she relished and held closely in reserve.

And she _did_ still have in mind the fantasy that he'd shared with her a couple months ago – how he'd long dreamed of her seducing him in his office at the Emporium.

So, when she did so – and she was now determined that it would be a matter of _when_ , though she still had a hard time imagining how she could find the confidence to go through with it – Marian made a mental note that she would keep her glasses _on_.


End file.
